


take shelter

by Suicix



Category: GOT7
Genre: Anal Sex, Frottage, Kink Discovery, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Pining, Porn with Feelings, Pre-Relationship, Sexual Content, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 15:17:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11382843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suicix/pseuds/Suicix
Summary: It was barely even a second or so – the flat of Jinyoung’s hand, strong and precise – and then it was over (and yet Jackson can’t get it out of his head).





	take shelter

**Author's Note:**

> this is, of course, inspired by episode three of got7ing+ and is set soon after that episode was filmed (so early 2017 - early march but with some hand-waving wrt some parts of the canon timeline?). i've wanted to write this since i first saw that because of course it appealed to my Ultimate Jinson Dynamic and finally....... it's here.
> 
> titled after the years & years song of the same name.

Jackson turns onto his other side and wills himself to forget, to think about something, _anything_ else. How can the very briefest of moments from today’s practice session be keeping him awake? How can something so insignificant, something that nobody else probably even remembers, be filling up his mind like this? It was barely even a second or so – the flat of Jinyoung’s hand, strong and precise – and then it was over.

And yet Jackson can’t get it out of his head.

It’s not like he hasn’t thought about any of the other members like this before, but that was different. That wasn’t like this. Sure, maybe he’s thought about Jaebum’s shoulders more than once, but it was always just that, just his shoulders and the broadness of them and the way the muscles in his back move. It was never Jaebum doing anything to Jackson, and it definitely wasn’t his hand coming down hard on Jackson’s ass and his voice smooth in Jackson’s ear. Not like it is with Jinyoung. This is something new entirely. This is something that Jackson swears could invade his dreams, something he’s going to be thinking about the next time he talks to Jinyoung, something that’s keeping him from sleep right _now,_ when he’s got to be up early. He’d definitely rather have those dreams than be awake thinking of this, and for once, he’s grateful to be so worn out from practicing: otherwise, he might never have fallen asleep.

(He does dream of it, though. Him face down on a bed or bent over Jinyoung’s knees, and Jinyoung’s hand striking him exactly how Jackson wants it. He forgets at least half the dream, knows there are some blanks in his brain when his alarm wakes him up, but he can’t shake it away completely. This is something he wants, whether he feels like he can admit that or not.)

 

 

Of course, the moment he sees Jinyoung the next morning, Jackson’s reminded of what he really should forget all over again. Just one smile, just one innocent nod _good morning,_ and his head’s off to places it shouldn’t be. Jackson makes his breakfast as quickly as he can, not making any eye contact, and sits on the couch to eat. Jinyoung joins him, a book in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. Jackson pretends to be very interested in his glass of iced tea and tries to look at anything that isn’t Jinyoung.

After the silence gets too much, Jackson starts to think that maybe – maybe what he should be doing is trying to make what he wants happen. If he acts up, if he’s as obnoxious and annoying as is humanly possible, then Jinyoung will _have_ to do something about it. Will have to lay a hand on him, just like yesterday.

So, that’s what Jackson does.

“This isn’t a broadcast,” Jinyoung says after a while. He doesn’t even sound irritated, just amused. “What are you doing?”

But Jackson can’t say _trying to get you to spank me again,_ so he just shrugs.

“I’m not doing anything,” he says. “Does everything have to mean something?”

“I guess not,” Jinyoung says, looking back down at his book.

 _It does mean something,_ Jackson thinks, watching as Jinyoung turns over the page. The problem is that the _something_ isn’t exactly something Jackson feels he can express, especially out here in the living room.

Especially now that Jaebum’s joined them. Jackson carries on trying to get Jinyoung’s attention, but ends up with Jaebum’s instead.

“Yah, Wang Jackson,” Jaebum says, firm. “Stop it.”

Jackson does, even if that definitely wasn’t how he wanted to be stopped. Even if it wasn’t the person he wanted to stop him asking him to do so. He knows that there aren’t many things he could do with his morning that are worse than angering Jaebum.

It’s another long day at the company building, and in between thoughts of dance steps and lyrics, Jackson comes to the realisation that maybe, the thing to do about what he wants from Jinyoung is to simulate it. To do it for himself. He has hands, and strong ones at that. He can spank his own ass if he wants to.

That night, he makes sure his bedroom door is locked from the inside and strips off his clothes. He leans back against the pillows on his bed, working himself up to full hardness thinking about it, about what he wants, one hand stroking his cock, and – _yes._ Now, he’s ready. He moves onto his hands and knees, gives his dick another swift jerk, and lets one arm reach back. He makes it quick and sharp when his hand meets skin; he can feel the sting in both his hand and his ass. Jackson hisses. _Shit,_ he wants more.

He lets himself have it, more slaps of his hand, so many that he’s lost count. His skin feels so hot, his whole _body_ feels so hot from the inside out, and he’s so hard that his cock’s hurting, too, precome dripping from the tip and his balls drawing up tight. He has to wrap a hand around it, has to bring himself off. He thinks he’d explode if he tried to make this last for much longer.

Jackson’s hand works quickly, frantically. He manages to bite back what might have been the loudest of his moans, but gasps and whimpers still come out, and his head’s still repeating Jinyoung’s name over and over, chanting it, making sure it’s at the very forefront of his mind. It’s so intense that tears are almost pricking up in his eyes, that he swears he’d draw blood if he were to bite down on his lip any harder. There’s just so _much:_ the sting in both his hands and his ass and the white-hot pleasure that pulses through his whole body before spilling from his cock.

He sobs, pressing his face to a pillow. So much, and yet it’s somehow not enough. He needs someone to anchor him, needs _Jinyoung._ Needs his voice and his hands to soothe him, to let him know he’ll be OK. Jackson rolls over onto his back, letting his eyes fall shut.

He’ll have to try again.

 

 

He gives it a few days before doing so, and again, Jinyoung doesn’t seem to take any notice. All Jackson gets from him are raised eyebrows and amused glances and the occasional frown – nothing that indicates he has any idea of what Jackson could be up to, or that he realises that Jackson’s even doing anything. So, it’s a surprise when there’s a knock on Jackson’s door in the evening and it turns out to be Jinyoung.

“Are you OK?” Jinyoung looks concerned.

“I’m fine.” Jackson frowns. Jinyoung just rolls his eyes at him, shaking his head.

“There’s something bothering you. Let me come in.”

Jackson does. If he ends up with no choice but to tell Jinyoung what’s actually on his mind, it really would be better if the door was shut.

“I’m fine,” he repeats once Jinyoung’s inside. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

This time, Jinyoung sighs as well as rolling his eyes, folding his arms across his chest.

“Seriously, Jackson-ah. I know something’s up. I can tell that the way you’ve been acting around me recently must have been – triggered by something. You don’t usually act up quite this much, and you’ve only been like this to me from what I’ve seen, so. What’s up?”

Jackson should have known that Jinyoung had actually noticed something: he’s so perceptive that it really isn’t fair. Jackson supposes he’s got no choice.

“Sure,” he says. “I’m doing this on purpose, and yeah, it’s been brought on by something – that time we practiced the choreography.” He should clarify: life’s been a never ending cycle of practice-sleep-repeat lately. “The time we filmed it for a broadcast.”

“What about it?” Jinyoung’s tone is cool, casual. He probably doesn’t remember, even though it was just mere days ago, even though it feels so fresh in Jackson’s mind.

“You – you _spanked_ me.”

“Spanked you,” Jinyoung repeats. Fuck, Jackson envies how totally calm Jinyoung sounds right now, and then there’s the fact that it’s exactly how he imagines Jinyoung sounds when he’s thinking about what they’re discussing now. It’s not fair. It’s not fair at _all._

“Yeah!” Jackson exclaims. “And OK, maybe I’ve been trying to get you to do it again, because I can’t stop thinking about it, even though I know I probably shouldn’t because it’s never gonna happen, and–”

“Jackson.” The way Jinyoung says it makes Jackson’s name sound like a knife. Jackson stops mid-sentence, not even sure of what else he was going to say. “You want me to spank you.”

“I’m not expecting anything to happen,” Jackson says quickly. “Like, just because I want something, it doesn’t mean we have to do it, especially something like this.” He doesn’t fluster easily, but right now, he can feel that his face is flushed darker. He’s so embarrassed. He can’t even begin to imagine what Jinyoung must be thinking, doesn’t think he’ll be able to look Jinyoung in the eye again. All because of one touch of his hand. “I totally get it if you think this is weird, if you don’t wanna spend time with me because of it. I never should have tried to make it happen, right? We should probably just forget about it altogether and you can go to your room and–”

“I don’t think so.” Another interruption.

“You… don’t?”

Jinyoung shakes his head.

“I don’t,” he says. “In fact, I’m rather curious.”

“You are?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself. I have to say, I didn’t really give it a second thought, but… well.” Jinyoung smirks, only barely, dark eyes somehow seeming even darker. “When you’re so eager about it, it’s kind of difficult not to start feeling the same.” He shrugs, like they’re talking about just about anything else, like they’re talking about something simple and ordinary. “Plus I think it’s hot, actually.”

“Yeah?” Jackson can’t quite believe what he’s hearing. This is just another dream. It has to be. There’s no other explanation for why he could possibly end up getting what he’s been after.

“Mm.” Jinyoung nods. “The thought of you bent over for me. Begging for it. The sounds you might make.” His smile is deadly. Jackson can’t look away. “You’d be loud, wouldn’t you? I know it.”

“Fuck.” Jackson swears his breath shortens when Jinyoung takes a step closer. He’s close enough to kiss, really, but – no. Jackson can’t have that. He can only have what Jinyoung gives him.

“You want to?” Jinyoung raises an eyebrow. “You want me to give you what you want?”

If he’s offering, there’s only one possible answer.

“Yeah,” says Jackson. “I want it.”

A hand brushes against Jackson’s cheek, Jinyoung’s knuckles cool to the touch.

“Good answer,” Jinyoung murmurs. “I want it, too.” His hand goes lower, down Jackson’s neck and chest, stopping at his waist, reaching underneath the hem of his t-shirt. Jinyoung’s fingers splay out across the warm skin. “I could make you wait,” he says, considering, “but I think you might have spent long enough waiting already.”

Jackson nods, unable to help the gasp when Jinyoung cups his cock in the palm of his other hand.

“Please,” he says. He’s helpless when it comes to this, to Jinyoung’s touch. “Anything, Jinyoung-ah, please.”

“Maybe not everything tonight.” Jinyoung’s hand squeezes, _hard._ “But I’ll give you something.”

“Please,” Jackson repeats. He’s grateful, so fucking grateful. He’ll take anything.

Jinyoung’s hands move, thumbs hooked into the waistband of Jackson’s sweatpants. He inches the pants down, slow, and then traces a finger down the length of Jackson’s dick, only his underwear preventing it from being skin to skin contact now. Still, Jackson shivers.

“Do you want me to touch you?” Jinyoung asks, and when Jackson nods, Jinyoung finally touches skin. Jackson’s already starting to get hard from just this, just the anticipation, and when Jinyoung jerks his dick, he moans, unrestrained. “There. I knew you’d be loud.”

The more he touches, the louder and harder Jackson gets. Jinyoung’s hand is steady and he keeps the pace torturously slow for now, but it’s still enough to have Jackson groaning for him. More than enough. Jinyoung moves in even closer, and when he lets his cock – still in his pants, still zipped away – rub against Jackson’s, he’s getting hard, too. Jackson feels a surge of pride knowing that he’s the one who’s caused it.

At the same time, though, he’s still the one being taken by surprise.

“This is turning you on, right?” Jinyoung’s voice is so low, so teasing. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Yeah.” There’s nothing for Jackson to do but tell the truth. He thinks how turned on he is should be obvious from how hard he is and the noises he’s making, no questions needed, but if Jinyoung’s going to ask something, it seems like Jackson has no choice but to answer.

“Me too,” Jinyoung says, licking at his mouth. Fuck, Jackson wants to kiss him. Jackson wants to kiss him so fucking bad. “Thinking about what you want from me. Seeing you like this.” He grinds their cocks together, the rolls of his hips so fluid. Jackson follows the movement, chasing the pleasure, clinging to it, to whatever Jinyoung gives him. There’s a moment where Jinyoung pulls away, but it’s only that, only a moment. He unbuttons his pants and pulls out his dick, letting the hot length of it brush against Jackson’s.

“Shit,” says Jackson. The heat is smouldering, deadly red hot. He could die like this, he’s sure. “Jinyoung, fuck. Please.”

Jinyoung’s hand reaches between them, wrapping around their dicks and stroking, up and down, up and down. It isn’t a steady rhythm, but Jackson lets it take him there, leaning in close, his cheek against Jinyoung’s neck.

He comes like that, his face pressed to Jinyoung’s shoulder. Jinyoung’s with him soon after, biting at the exposed skin of Jackson’s neck and shoulder to mask his noise. That does nothing to keep Jackson quiet, but he tries his best not to be too loud, to stop himself from reaching the kind of volume that can be heard on the other side of the door and walls. It’s difficult, but he’ll do it for Jinyoung.

Jinyoung pulls back. Jackson swears that in the time it takes for him to blink, Jinyoung’s already tucked himself away again, and even though his hair’s out of place and his lips are wet and shiny, Jackson doesn’t think anyone would be able to notice that he just came, not unless they knew. (And _Jackson_ knows. The knowledge of it hums in his veins like it’s the greatest secret known to man. Something between just the two of them.)

“Tomorrow,” Jinyoung tells him, his voice a murmur. “Tomorrow evening, I’ll give you everything you want.” He kisses the side of Jackson’s head, gets Jackson sat down on the bed, and leaves, the door swinging shut behind him.

Jackson blinks at the inside of the door, stunned. Unable to do anything else.

Fuck.

 

 

The next day, Jackson thinks goes without saying, is torture. It’s torture when Jinyoung smirks at him over breakfast, when Jinyoung’s hand comes to rest between his shoulder blades in what’s usually a friendly gesture, when they end up in the same car on the way to the company building for practice, when Jackson can _feel_ Jinyoung looking at his ass as they go over choreography. Jackson does his best to focus on just about anything else. If he can resist it, he thinks, Jinyoung will make it better for him later.

A couple of hours in, they’re allowed to take a break. Jackson makes a beeline for the water bottles and brings one to Jinyoung. There’s an indignant squawk from Bambam’s direction, like he’s asking why Jackson didn’t get one for him, too.

“Go and get your own,” Jackson tells him. He holds one of the bottles in his hands out to Jinyoung. “Jinyoungie – here.”

Jinyoung smiles, quietly impressed. Or, Jackson _hopes_ he’s impressed, at least.

“Thank you,” says Jinyoung. He nods down at the floor in front of him, the movement so small and subtle, but Jackson catches it. He sits, leaning back against the bench, and even though it’s just as casual as ever (though Jackson would kneel if Jinyoung asked for it, but he can’t now, can’t here), Jinyoung’s hand reaches down and strokes through Jackson’s hair. Jaebum frowns at them, but Jackson just ignores it, leaning into the touch. _Tonight._ Tonight, he’s getting what he wants. What Jinyoung wants to give him.

They practice until late into the evening, until Jackson’s body aches and he’s out of breath what feels like ten times over.

“Are you sure you’re gonna be OK for later?” Jinyoung asks, his voice low and quiet in Jackson’s ear, and Jackson nods. This has come too far for it not to go ahead.

On the way back to the dorm, they’re in different cars. It’s a relief, really: some time for Jackson to collect himself. He says goodbye to Youngjae, who’s going to spend the night at his brother’s, and climbs into the car with Mark and Yugyeom. The city flashes by on the other side of the window, bright bursts of orange and white in the darkness, and Jackson just waits, letting all the lights blur into one until the car stops running. The door opens. Jackson blinks, glazed over eyes turning focused. They’re here. They’re here, and Jinyoung’s waiting for him. Jackson has to take a deep breath before getting out of the car.

At just about any other time, he’s sure that either Mark or Yugyeom would have asked why he’s been being so quiet, but they’re all tired from dancing. It makes sense that Jackson isn’t talking much. The others are already inside, apparently, but only Jaebum and Bambam are in the lounge. Jinyoung must be in his bedroom. Waiting for Jackson, just like Jackson hoped.

It takes some time for Jackson to decide to go to Jinyoung’s room. Not much time, but enough for him to consider what exactly it is that he wants. When he initially thought about it – that first almost sleepless night after _it_ happened – he couldn’t be sure how far it would go if they actually did it, but after yesterday, he’s pretty certain that orgasms will be involved. He just can’t be sure what shape they’ll take. He’ll let it go far is as much as he knows. Let Jinyoung have whatever he wants.

Any other time when he’s been invited into one of the others’ rooms, he’d just barge straight in, knowing it was OK. This, on the other hand, feels different. When Jackson heads to Jinyoung’s bedroom, he knocks, three steady beats of his fist against the wood.

“Come in.”

Jackson does as he’s told and shuts the door behind him. Jinyoung’s sitting on one side of the bed, and when he turns his head to face Jackson, his smile widens.

“I was wondering how long you’d take,” Jinyoung says, and Jackson really shouldn’t feel as intimidated as he does: it’s only Jinyoung, Jinyoungie, his Park-gae. It shouldn’t be intimidating, and yet it is. There’s something in his smile that has Jackson on edge, has him standing up straighter, has him wanting to impress Jinyoung.

“Well,” he says, stepping over to the bed, in front of where Jinyoung’s sitting. “Here I am.”

“Here you are.” Jinyoung looks Jackson up and down, eyes drifting over his body in a way that feels physical, like he’s doing more than just simply looking. “So. Jackson. You… you want me to spank you.”

“Yeah,” Jackson says. He thought they made that clear last night. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot, like I said. As well as thinking about you. A lot.” He says it before he can stop himself, and Jinyoung just nods, like this is a totally casual conversation. Like Jackson hasn’t maybe just revealed more than he wanted to.

“Take your clothes off, then.” So _casual._ Jackson doesn’t know how he does it. “You trust me, right?”

“Of course I do.” Jackson reaches for the hem of his top, about to pull it over his head.

“Good. I trust you, too.” Jinyoung cocks his head to one side. “Clothes?”

Jackson strips, Jinyoung’s eyes on him all the while, burning holes into his body. Just the fact that they’re going to do this, that Jackson’s getting what he wants, that Jinyoung wants _him,_ has Jackson half hard already. Being told to get onto the bed on his hands and knees, the way Jinyoung says it so low and dark and just plain sexy, does even more. And Jinyoung hasn’t even touched him yet. Jackson waits as Jinyoung takes his own clothes off, and once he has, he’s kneeling on the bed behind Jackson.

“You need a word,” Jinyoung says. “Something you can say to make me stop immediately if it gets too much.”

Jackson takes a moment to think, and then, in English – “Out.”

Above him, Jinyoung snorts, hand covering his mouth in a laugh.

“Really?” he wonders.

“Really!” Jackson exclaims.

“If you say so,” says Jinyoung. There’s something fond in his voice, something that Jackson wants to hold onto, wants to hear from him forever. “Are you ready?”

“I’m ready.”

One of Jinyoung’s hands strokes over Jackson’s bare ass, somehow both firm and gentle, and barely a second after it’s gone, it’s back there in a different way. Harsh, unforgiving. Just like that first time, the time that sparked all of this. Jackson curses under his breath. It hurts, but – in quite possibly the best way.

“Good?” Jinyoung asks, and after Jackson nods, his tone goes from concerned to mischievous. “This would usually be given as a punishment, wouldn’t it?” he continues after some more hits. His hand smoothes down Jackson’s ass again, rubbing the ache in even deeper. “I think you like it too much, though. It would be more of a punishment _not_ to give it to you. I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Yeah.” It comes out rough, just one long, shaky syllable.

“Of course I am,” Jinyoung continues. “You _like_ the pain. You _like_ showing your ass off to me.” The _likes_ are each punctuated with slaps of Jinyoung’s hand, one on each cheek. Jackson whimpers, utterly unable to do anything else. “One day, I should get you bent over my knees for this. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Oh, I bet you would.” Jinyoung doesn’t even let there be any time to answer, just carries on with his words and the slap of his hand.

Jackson whines, both the noise he makes and the sound of Jinyoung spanking him ringing in his ears. His cock throbs between his legs, hard and untouched. He knows he wouldn’t be allowed to reach for it even if he wanted to. This is everything he wanted, though. Everything he’s been thinking about since that first time the flat of Jinyoung’s hand came down on his ass.

Jinyoung gives him more, more of the sweet, perfect pleasure-pain that has Jackson panting and pushing his ass back for even more and gripping at the duvet. Jinyoung gives him more, and then – and then Jinyoung stops, cutting off all the contact between them. _No._ They can’t be done. They can’t be done yet, because Jackson hasn’t come, and surely that’s going to happen. He hopes it will. It has to.

“Good,” Jinyoung says, soothing, running a hand down Jackson’s side. “Good boy. You took that so well for me. So, so well.”

“Thank you.” It takes Jackson a moment to get the words out, but he knows Jinyoung wants to hear them. “Thank you, Jinyoung-ah.”

“Do you want,” Jinyoung starts to ask, his hand now caressing the bare, reddened curve of Jackson’s ass, “me to open you up?”

Oh, fuck. Jackson _wants._

“Yes,” he says. “Please.” His voice is wrecked, and now – and now Jinyoung’s going to fuck him. And even if Jinyoung doesn’t fuck him, not with his dick, he’ll still be inside Jackson, long-clever-perfect fingers teasing and stretching. Hopefully stretching to get Jackson ready for his cock, though.

“All right, then.” Jinyoung heads to the nightstand. He isn’t gone for long, but like this, even ten or so seconds seems to stretch on forever.

When Jackson sees the condom in Jinyoung’s hand alongside the lube, he swears his stomach leaps in excitement, the kind of flip that even he couldn’t hope to pull off as part of a performance. Jinyoung wants to fuck him, and intends on doing so. This is even more than Jackson allowed himself to imagine.

Jinyoung’s on the bed again, behind Jackson, hands back on Jackson’s hips.

“Still want this?” he asks. One of his hands closes over Jackson’s hipbone.

“I would have said if I didn’t,” Jackson tells him. “Please, Jinyoung-ah.”

Jinyoung’s hands are gone, then, but seconds later, Jackson gets his finger. The second of Jinyoung’s fingers pushing in so soon is a surprise, and the wider stretch makes Jackson moan.

“You’re going to stay good for me, aren’t you?” says Jinyoung. “You’re going to stay still as I get you ready for me. Otherwise I’ll just make you wait longer.”

“I can be good.” Something in Jinyoung’s voice – a dark, steely edge that cuts right through any coherent thoughts in Jackson’s head – compels him to answer. “I can keep still.”

“I should hope so.” The tips of Jinyoung’s fingers press harder, deeper. Jackson fights to keep his body still, just like he promised. He clutches at the sheets some more, his fingers shaking. He can do this. He can do it for Jinyoung.

This time, the wait is longer, but after a while, Jinyoung thrusts a third finger into Jackson. He fucks Jackson with them, the rhythm becoming unpredictable the moment Jackson feels like he’s got the hang of it. Jackson tries his best not to rock back against Jinyoung’s hand, tries his best not to ride Jinyoung’s fingers. As good as this is, he wants Jinyoung’s cock, wants Jinyoung to feel good as well, wants to make a crack in Jinyoung’s cool and collected exterior.

Finally, Jinyoung pulls his fingers back. He unwraps the condom and puts it on. Jackson just waits, not wanting to seem impatient, but he _is,_ he fucking is, and he wants Jinyoung inside him so badly that it’s more than that, that it’s a _need._

Judging by the way Jinyoung pushes in – smooth and swift, somewhat amazingly not teasing at all – he seems to need it just as much. His hands settle on Jackson’s ass, his right hand going for another sharp slap before pulling back a little and thrusting back inside. Jackson can only groan at that: the combination of Jinyoung inside him and Jinyoung’s hand on him and the sound of Jinyoung moaning is all so _much._

“Fuck,” Jinyoung pants out, hands tightening on Jackson’s hips. “God, Jackson. You’re so – so tight, fuck.” He starts to fuck properly, getting a rhythm going. “So _good.”_

Jackson has to agree that Jinyoung’s just the same in return, actually articulating it when Jinyoung’s cock catches his prostate dead on, even though he’s nowhere near eloquent in doing so. The noise Jackson makes is supposed to be Jinyoung’s name but comes out mostly as a moan. It seems to earn him Jinyoung’s hand again, though, so he definitely doesn’t mind.

Jinyoung sets the pace, the snap of his hips just as sharp as the force of his hits though the sensation’s completely different. One thing that definitely isn’t different, though, is how fucking good it is, how much Jackson wants more. When Jinyoung pulls out unexpectedly, Jackson hums, disappointed, questioning.

“Turn over,” Jinyoung says. “I wanna see you.”

Oh, _shit._ The want in Jinyoung’s voice is so obvious, so audible, the best kind of music to Jackson’s ears. He turns, just like Jinyoung asked of him, moving onto his back. Like this, Jackson finally gets to see Jinyoung, and that want is right there on his face, too. There in his eyes and the way he licks his lips. In everything.

“Jinyoung,” Jackson says, because it’s all he can seem to think of, let alone articulate. Jinyoung looks – Jinyoung _is_ so fucking gorgeous like this, his eyes so dark they look ready to drown in and sweat dripping down his skin. Jackson can’t decide which he wants more, whether he wants to lick it away or let it stick them together. He just knows that he wants this, wants Jinyoung, wants Jinyoung inside him again. “Come on, please.”

Jinyoung nods, lining himself up so he can thrust back in, his hands on Jackson’s thighs. They both groan out when he pushes in again, balls deep, and he’s so _close_ now. So near to Jackson that Jackson can feel Jinyoung’s breath on his skin, gone ragged and uneven from sex. So near to Jackson that Jackson can’t help himself. He lets his legs wrap around Jinyoung’s waist, trying to pull him closer, deeper, needing every single part of what Jinyoung’s giving him.

And Jinyoung lets him take it, leaning in even closer so he can press kisses to Jackson’s neck and collarbone, so he can nose against the skin and just – breathe Jackson in, it seems like. Jackson wants the same thing, angling his face so he can catch Jinyoung’s lips in a kiss when Jinyoung pulls back. Jackson manages to get the corner of Jinyoung’s mouth, and Jinyoung hums, surprised, but he still turns his head. Still turns his head and lets Jackson kiss him properly. Still kisses back.

It’s the first time they’ve kissed, Jackson realises. He’s had Jinyoung’s hand coming down hard and heavy on his ass but this is the first time they’ve done something as simple as pressing their lips together. Jackson savours it, making it last for as long as he can until he feels the need to actually breathe. When the kiss breaks, Jinyoung’s smiling at him, so bright, sweat sticking his hair to his forehead. Jackson’s so focused on that – on Jinyoung’s _grin_ – that he doesn’t notice when one of Jinyoung’s hands reaches between them, the other fisted in the sheets by Jackson’s head, doesn’t notice until the hand wraps around his dick. Jackson gasps at the sudden touch and rocks up into Jinyoung’s hand. _Yes,_ he wants this. He wants to come like this, their bodies fused together and Jinyoung smiling down at him.

Jackson thought it would happen differently, thought it would happen with strict words in his ear and Jinyoung’s hand on his ass, and that would be good-great-incredible, but this is even better somehow. This is so much more than he would have let himself ask for, more than he let himself imagine.

He’s so lost in that thought that it doesn’t take him long from there to come, just a few more jerks of Jinyoung’s wrist on Jackson’s cock and he’s gone, his eyes squeezing shut and more noise escaping him. This time when he says Jinyoung’s name, it’s obvious.

Jinyoung keeps fucking him, and eventually, Jackson watches as Jinyoung falls apart in front of him, on top of him, inside him, so beautiful as he does. He shoots Jackson one last smile and pulls out, settling down beside Jackson after throwing the condom away. Jackson leans back against a pillow. He should probably leave the room and go to his own bed instead of passing out on Jinyoung’s, but when Jackson tries to move, Jinyoung’s fingers wrap around his arm, keeping him there.

“No.” Jinyoung’s fingers tighten, just a little. “You’re tired, right? Let me take care of you.” He smiles, smug. “All fucked out.”

Jackson is. He stays where he is on the bed as Jinyoung grabs a tissue to wipe the come off of Jackson’s stomach, letting his body relax even more, melting into the sheets. He really can’t help but smile, wide and sleepy: Jinyoung’s taking care of him, just like he said he would. Cleaning him up and fluffing up the pillows and kissing his forehead. Looking at him with a matching smile. (And all of that, Jackson thinks, is enough of an indication that they could be on to something more here.)

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so so much for reading, everybody - you can also find me on tumblr @ vibetechs!!


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